Side Story Chapter 3
“It’s nice and quiet.”
Clois spoke calmly as he rode his horse down the forest path.
Behind him followed Edgar Kaillen and Curtis Largselv, both looking utterly displeased.
While Clois seemed relaxed and even cheerful, the other two had their lips jutted out like sulking children — anyone could tell they were unhappy. Clois glanced back at them and let out a short laugh.
“Who told you to come along? You could’ve stayed home, playing with your adorable children and your loving wives.”
Edgar didn’t bother to hide his sulky face as he replied,
“My adorable son said, ‘Father, isn’t it only proper for a vassal to accompany his lord wherever he goes?’”
At that, Edgar recalled his five-year-old son, Arsel Kaillen.
Everyone around him said the boy was his spitting image —
especially that annoyingly upright way he spoke.
Edgar wanted to deny it, but his beautiful, honest wife had smiled and said,
“Darling, look at Arsel. He’s exactly like you.”
So he’d had no choice but to admit it.
He thought marriage had made him a better man, less obnoxious than before —
but perhaps not.
Next to him, Curtis looked even more miserable.
“My wife said I’d gone mad. She said, ‘His Highness is going on a retreat, and you’re not going with him? What kind of knight doesn’t accompany his lord?’”
Curtis’s eyes welled up.
His wife was a soldier herself — stationed on the northern border, always patrolling and preparing for invasions. She came home to the capital only once or twice a year, spending a few weeks with the family before returning north.
This was supposed to be that rare time of the year.
He’d planned to stay by her side — but instead, she had looked at him like he was the most pathetic man alive.
She told him she’d train the children herself and ordered him to go after Clois immediately.
And his youngest, Ruska, had smiled brightly and said,
“Then can I use your sword while you’re gone, Dad?”
Clois watched his two friends gaze longingly toward the distant capital and couldn’t understand them at all.
‘What’s so good about it?’
He’d never been someone to hold anyone deeply in his heart —
not even a typical youthful first love.
He thought that was a blessing.
‘At least I won’t do anything stupid in the name of love.’
He was the Crown Prince, after all —
a man whose every move had to be calculated.
Even marriage for him was supposed to be a matter of strategy, not emotion.
Bringing feelings into political calculations only led to faulty conclusions.
‘That’s what I believed… yet somehow, it doesn’t feel easy.’
Clois frowned slightly.
He and his companions were now in a remote rural domain, far from the capital.
Normally, in early summer — when the palace was busiest — he’d never have the time to lounge around in the countryside.
But a month ago, his fiancée had died, and that had changed everything.
They’d barely even met — only during royal banquets.
If they’d known each other since childhood, there might have been some bond,
but the Emperor had delayed the engagement until Clois turned twenty-five,
having weighed every political calculation to the last detail.
Most princes were betrothed young and married by twenty.
Clois’s engagement at twenty-five was unusually late.
The Emperor had been obsessed with bloodlines —
especially with the “mark” Clois possessed, a hereditary emblem he himself lacked.
“Look at him! Clois bears the true mark of the Harkia Empire’s royal blood!”
He’d often said that with pride,
dreaming that Clois’s children would also inherit that same mark.
Thus, when choosing Clois’s bride, the Emperor only considered noble houses where the empress or a royal consort had once borne children with that same mark.
He believed Clois would marry quickly and soon produce an heir.
But Clois disobeyed.
“After I resolve the disputes on the northern border, I will marry.”
It seemed a small delay — only a few months’ affair.
The Emperor agreed that perhaps it was best: once the northern issue was settled, Clois could return and focus fully on securing the line of succession.
But Clois didn’t return for two years.
And then came the news: his fiancée was dead.
The Emperor was livid.
Not only had the marriage been delayed, but now the Crown Princess-to-be was gone.
He rushed to arrange another engagement —
but Clois, with a perfectly calm expression, said:
“The loss was… quite a shock. Until I have grieved properly, I will not consider a new betrothal.”
He showed no sadness, no visible emotion —
and the Emperor realized:
Clois had no intention of marrying.
Enraged, he shouted,
“Do you think you’re the only son I have?! Let’s see how long your arrogance lasts! I can’t stand the sight of you — leave the palace! Don’t return until I summon you myself!”
He thought Clois would kneel, beg, and relent for fear of losing the title of Crown Prince.
But Clois merely bowed and replied,
“As Your Majesty commands.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he left the palace —
and soon after, the capital itself — traveling to a distant domain.
“Apparently, the local lord here believes we’re just lesser nobles from the capital,” Edgar reported. “He’ll probably treat us like common knights.”
“I know,” Clois replied. “That’s fine.”
He didn’t mind being underestimated.
If anything, he preferred it.
Had they known he was the Crown Prince, there would’ve been endless commotion about ‘serving the honored guest.’
“This is better. Peace and quiet — just what I needed.”
He looked toward a forest far in the distance — one not part of this domain.
“That forest over there… it looks magnificent.”
Even from afar, the deep green stood out, its trees rich and varied, perfectly balanced in harmony.
Curtis nodded. “Indeed. Seems like plenty of game lives there, too.”
“Then that’s where we’ll hunt,” Clois decided. “Tomorrow, we’ll come with proper equipment.”
Even as he spoke, his gaze lingered on that forest.
For some reason, he couldn’t look away.
That evening, they were invited to dine with the local lord.
“It’s a pleasure to have you here,” the lord greeted warmly. “Please make yourselves at home during your stay. Ah yes, you’re all from the Kaillen duchy’s branch family, are you not?”
Edgar gave a quick, subtle wink — a reminder to stick to their cover story.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Clois replied.
The lord’s face brightened. “Splendid. Tell me, are any of you married?”
Edgar and Curtis immediately nodded.
“Of course,” Edgar said. “I have three children already.”
“I’ve four sons,” Curtis added. “The house is always in chaos!”
The problem was that Clois missed his cue to answer —
and the lord’s eyes turned to him.
“So, you haven’t married yet, I take it?”
“…It just hasn’t happened,” Clois admitted.
He’d considered lying — saying he had a wife —
but he couldn’t bring himself to.
It would feel like conceding to the Emperor’s wishes.
The Emperor’s furious face flashed in his mind — shouting for him to marry, not out of affection, not because he longed for grandchildren,
but because he wanted a child with the mark.
He didn’t see a son — only a means of breeding the “superior bloodline” that would secure the empire’s future.
Clois looked down at his gloved hand.
Beneath the leather, on the back of his hand, was the radiant mark of the royal family —
the mark that his siblings envied, coveted, and even hated him for.
He swallowed a bitter laugh.
Meanwhile, the lord continued droning on proudly about his lands.
“…Not quite the capital, of course, but lacking nothing! And our daughters — and even my cousins’ daughters — are all known for their beauty. Ah, Lord Is, was it? Perhaps you’d like to meet one?”
The greedy gleam in the man’s eyes made his intent clear.
He wanted to marry one of his daughters into what he believed was a capital noble line,
to raise his family’s status.
Sensing this, Clois quickly steered the conversation away.
“While riding earlier, I noticed a nearby forest that caught my eye. Perhaps it belongs to a neighboring domain…?”
“Ah, you must mean the Forest of Solem.”
The lord’s face immediately darkened.
“Don’t go near that place! Even by mistake! Anyone who steps foot there ends up entangled with that insolent girl!”
The three men stiffened at his rude tone.
Realizing his outburst, the lord coughed awkwardly and looked away.
“Forgive me, I spoke out of turn before esteemed guests. But truly, you’d best stay away.”
“Who is this ‘girl’ you speak of?” Edgar asked.
The lord’s grip on his fork tightened as his voice rose again.
“Who else? Lillian Shell — the daughter of Lord Solem!”
